One Summer Night

by Caridad Piñeiro

  Emma nodded, walked over to her colleague, and whispered something in the man’s ear.

  “Certainly. That sounds like a marvelous suggestion,” the man replied.

  He raced out of the dressing room and, barely a minute later, scurried back in with different outfits for the men to try on.

  Owen and Jonathan went in and exchanged the over-the-top Victorian suits with cutaway tuxedos in slate gray, brilliant-white shirts with gunmetal-colored ascots, silvery-gray vests with delicate embroidered scrolls, and black pants with a subtle gray stripe. As Owen glanced at himself in the mirror in the dressing room, he thought he looked rather dapper.

  He stepped outside to where Jonathan was already modelling the outfit for Emma.

  She clapped her hands, grinned, and said, “You look fabulous. Like Hugh Grant in Four Weddings and a Funeral.”

  “Chick flick,” he said at the same exact time as his brother, and they both rolled their eyes and laughed.

  Emma walked over to straighten the ascot and vest. “A nice diamond or pearl stickpin here,” she said and pointed at a spot in the middle of the fabric. Skimming her hand across the vest with its hand-stitched swirls, she said, “I love this design and the color. The subtle shades of blue in the fabric will be great with the flowers and the navy we chose for the bridesmaids’ dresses.”

  “Jon, what do you think?” His brother had been unusually silent as he stared at the mirror.

  “I’m liking this vibe, Owen. It’s different, and I don’t feel like I’m dressing up for Halloween.”

  Owen turned to Emma. “I guess you have a winner,” he said, and as he met her shrewd gaze, it occurred to him that he’d been played. “You did this on purpose, right? Showed us the most outrageous outfit so you could sneak this one in instead of the everyday tuxes we’d want to wear.”

  She grinned and flipped her hands up in a you-got-me pose. “You know the deal, Owen. Show the buyer the houses they won’t want and then smack them with a dream home that is decidedly over their budget. Besides, you guys are going to look great.”

  “Ladies will be all over us,” Jonathan said, but then quickly added, “Well, over me anyway, since you’ll be a married man. Shit, I can’t get over it. You’re getting married.”

  As Owen turned to look in the mirror once again, he almost couldn’t believe it either. In a little over three weeks, he’d be married to Maggie.

  He smiled so broadly, he thought his face might crack, and Jonathan clapped him hard on the back.

  “That’s the look of a man in love,” his brother said.

  Emma had been standing beside him, eyeing him carefully. At Jonathan’s declaration, she met Owen’s gaze, hers slightly more relieved.

  “Yes, it is,” she said.

  He felt like he had passed some test with Maggie’s friend. It surprised him, since, based on what Maggie had told him, Emma was a diehard cynic when it came to love and marriage. But somehow, as their gazes connected, it seemed as if she was willing to relax that cynicism on behalf of her friend. Just to make sure, he said, “I do love her, Emma. I won’t ever hurt her.”

  “We’ll see” was all she said and stepped away to finalize the details with the shopkeeper.

  * * *

  “I’m sorry your father couldn’t make it to the rehearsal dinner, Owen. I was hoping the two of us could put things to rights,” Maggie’s father said and squeezed his shoulder, the gesture more paternal than anything his own father had ever done.

  “I’m sorry also, Mr. Sinclair,” he said and meant it more than the other man could know. Like an inmate on death row waiting for the governor’s pardon, Owen had prayed his father would reconsider and end the feud, allowing him to forget about the whopper of a lie he had told. Like that death-row inmate, he was still hoping that his father would arrive in time for tomorrow’s sunset wedding.

  In the month since announcing his plans to marry Maggie, he’d only seen his father a few times at the office, and they’d barely talked. Part of it was that he was incredibly busy at work with a new project, but Maggie and he had also been run ragged with all the wedding details. In addition, Maggie had been juggling all the changes at the store.

  “Bryce. Please call me Bryce. We’re going to be family after all,” her father said.

  “Bryce. Thank you for everything. Maggie has told me that you’ve been very helpful with all the planning.”

  Bryce peered at him intently, the look calculating. “I have to say it was a shock when Maggie told me. I wasn’t quite sure it was a wise thing to do, all things considered, but I can see that you’re good for her. I want her to be happy.”

  “I will make her happy,” Owen confirmed and held out his hand to the other man. For a second, he considered raising the feud and asking Bryce to tell him the entire story behind it, but he held back. This rehearsal dinner was to begin the celebrations and share their happiness. Raising such sorrow at this time just didn’t seem right.

  Bryce took Owen’s hand in both of his and provided a warm and openhearted handshake. His voice was shaky as he said, “Welcome to the family, Owen. I need to see to a few things, so if you’ll excuse me.”

  Owen watched him walk over to Maggie, where the old man wrapped an arm around her waist, drew her into a tight hug, and dropped a kiss on her temple.

  “I can’t believe Father didn’t come,” Jonathan whispered as he strode up to Owen and leaned toward him.

  “He said he wouldn’t,” Owen reminded his brother, who handed him another glass of champagne.

  “Fuck him, then. Here’s to my big bro on his last night as a bachelor,” he said and held up his glass for the toast.

  Owen forced a smile, trying not to show just how much his father’s absence at the rehearsal dinner was bothering him, and tapped his glass with his brother’s. His brother, who he knew he could always count on to be there, despite his crazy antics and wanderlust.

  Owen knew that if Jonathan had been in Timbuktu when Owen called for help, Jonathan would find a way to get to his side. He held up his glass for another toast. “To you, my very best friend and amazing best man.”

  Jonathan actually blushed and did an “aw shucks” shrug before touching his glass to Owen’s. “Thanks.” Then, as if remembering something, he reached into his pocket and handed him a key. “Before I forget, here it is. Do you need me to do anything else?”

  “Not sure. Come with me to talk to Carlo. He’ll have a better idea about what’s necessary,” he said, laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder, and steered him in the direction of Emma’s caterer, who was giving final instructions to the staff as the event wound down. Only the bridal party was left in the ballroom of the large Sea Kiss inn where they had chosen to hold the event.

  As they approached, Carlo turned away from his staff and faced them, a broad smile on his face. “Gentlemen. Are you ready for tomorrow?”

  “About as ready as any man can be to lose his freedom,” Jonathan kidded and elbowed his brother.

  Carlo laughed and bent close to them. “Don’t let the ladies hear that. Especially Emma. I have a hard enough time trying to convince her that marriage is not as bad as she thinks.”

  “She’s a hard nut, but someone will eventually crack that shell,” Jonathan said, earning a sharp poke in the ribs from Owen. With surprise, Jonathan looked at Carlo and said, “Sorry, dude. I didn’t realize.”

  “It’s okay. I’m a patient man,” Carlo said without anger, but the fleeting glance he shot in Emma’s direction was filled with disappointment and yearning.

  “Do you need help with the surprise?” Jonathan said, obviously trying to draw the other man’s attention away from the ever-pessimistic wedding planner.

  Carlo nodded. “I have the address and plans for what you requested.”

  “And I have the key,” Owen said and passed it to Carlo.

 
“You haven’t had a bachelor party, have you?” Carlo asked.

  Owen shook his head, and Jonathan said, “We haven’t had time with all the wedding planning.”

  Carlo gave a Gallic kind of shrug. “And after this event, you and Maggie—”

  “Won’t see each other until the wedding,” Owen said and looked in Maggie’s direction, already missing her even though they had both agreed to be apart for this one night. She was standing with her father and friends, chatting and smiling. She looked beautiful in a wine-colored cocktail dress that bared one shoulder, tempting him with a view of her lightly tanned skin and toned arm.

  “Then tonight, while we prep your surprise, we’ll have an impromptu bachelor party,” Carlo said in a voice that left no room for disagreement.

  Owen turned his attention back to his brother, seeking confirmation, but his brother’s attention was focused on the women across the way. Or rather, one woman across the way: Connie.

  He wrapped his arm around his brother’s shoulders and hugged him hard, drawing him back into the conversation. “Come on, Jon. It’s time for the men to have some fun.”

  “For sure,” his brother said and finished off the last of his champagne.

  As he and Jonathan waited for Carlo, it occurred to him that of the three of them, he was the luckiest. He’d found the perfect woman to share his life, while the other two men…

  Well, if they were waiting for Connie and Emma, they might find themselves waiting a very long time.

  Chapter 26

  Maggie stared out the french doors to gaze at the line of guests making their way down the short boardwalk and onto the beach where rows of chairs awaited.

  They had just finished up the cocktail hour on the patio. They had opted to have it before the ceremony so guests could relax a little while they waited for sunset and so Emma’s staff could prepare the patio for the Viennese hour later that night. Emma’s people were expertly moving everyone down to the beach, and then they would finalize the details in the area around the great lawn, where tables had been set for the five-course meal Carlo had dreamed up for the wedding fare.

  “Just a few more minutes, Mags,” Emma said, offering her a reassuring pat on the arm before hurrying outside to assist her people.

  Waitstaff scurried about, picking up dirty plates and glasses while another group hauled out a long roll of fabric. With impeccable teamwork, they unfurled a long sheath of white fabric decorated with the same silver scrollwork that adorned the gossamer-like material on the dining tables. It was a perfect match to the design on the vests the men were wearing with their cutaway tuxedos.

  When they reached the boardwalk, they tacked down that cloth and returned for another roll. They repeated the process on the boardwalk and then again to provide a walkway to the arbor on the sand where the wedding ceremony would be held. Victorian gingerbread woodwork, white and silver tulle, and flowers decorated the arbor. There were scads more flowers all along the rails of the boardwalk and on the tent poles closest to the walkway.

  As soon as Emma’s staff was done laying the last of the fabric, Owen took a spot beside the minister by the arbor, and after a quick discussion, which brought a big smile to Owen’s face, Emma marched back up the great lawn, careful to avoid the cloth runway.

  “It looks gorgeous,” Connie said from beside Maggie as they waited for Emma to join the rest of the bridal party.

  It really did, Maggie thought. Besides the lovely details for her walk down the aisle, each table held a unique centerpiece that combined antique-looking Victorian items with flowers. Roses, orchids, freesia, hydrangeas, stephanotis, and the ever-important orange blossoms added color and fragrance to the tables and to the tussie-mussie bouquets she and the bridesmaids would carry down the aisle. The flowers were expertly blended in with the teapots, cups, books, birdcages, lace, candles, and other Victoriana on the tables.

  Emma had explained that in Victorian times, each of the flowers had special meanings. Orchids for true love and stephanotis for happiness in your marriage. Freesia for innocence while the orange blossoms spoke to chastity and an abundance of children in the union.

  “She really did an amazing job,” Tracy said, almost wistfully, before quipping, “Almost makes me want to do it again.”

  Both she and Connie looked at Tracy so abruptly and with so much shock that her friend held up her hands in surrender and laughed out loud. “Come on now, ladies. I know I got off to a rocky start, but I’ve sworn to make this marriage work.”

  Emma burst through the french doors, still communicating to someone through the earpiece she wore. Meeting Maggie’s gaze, she said, “If you’re ready, we’re set to go.”

  Maggie looked down to where Owen waited and then whirled around to the bridal party gathered just inside the exit to the patio. Her father patiently sat on a chair beside the doors. Connie and Jonathan stood stiffly side by side, while behind them, Tracy paired up with one of Owen’s old college friends, leaving another of Owen’s friends waiting for Emma to take her place.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied, anxious to be on her way down the aisle and to Owen’s side to exchange vows. Doubly anxious to have the entire event over with so they could share their first night as husband and wife.

  Connie and Tracy broke away quickly for a final embrace with her before taking their places in the bridal party.

  Emma nodded and did a final approval of the couples and their order, leaving herself next to last. With a quick but intense hug for Maggie, she spoke into her earpiece.

  “Alert the minister to ask everyone to be seated. Let me know when you’ve cued the music so the first couple can come down the aisle.”

  Maggie laid a trembling hand against her midsection and took a deep breath. Her dad rose from his chair and offered her his arm. He patted her hand in a very paternal gesture, hoping to calm her. “It will be fine, Maggie. Don’t worry.”

  “Owen’s dad didn’t come,” she said softly, and her father shook his head.

  “Don’t think about his bitterness. Today is about celebrating life,” her father said, surprising her yet again.

  She nodded and took another shaky breath as the bridal party started their walk down to the beachfront. Emma finally assumed her place and spoke over her shoulder. “Wait for us to reach the arbor and take our places. When I nod, you start your journey, Mags. A wonderful, joyful journey to the man of your dreams,” she said with heartfelt emotion, adding yet another surprise to what was already becoming a day filled with unexpected sentiments.

  Before Maggie could say anything, her friend and the usher exited onto the great lawn, across that expanse and the boardwalk, until they reached the seaside arbor. They split apart, assuming positions on the bride’s and groom’s sides.

  The chamber orchestra that had been playing Pachelbel’s Canon finished, and for a long heartbeat, there was nothing but the susurrus of the ocean drifting up toward the house.

  At Emma’s nod, the traditional wedding march began.

  Maggie shared a tearful look and watery smile with her dad and then stepped over the threshold to begin her journey.

  * * *

  Robert Pierce had not wanted anyone to see him arrive.

  He had succeeded.

  He poured himself a scotch and downed it in a few hasty gulps to deaden the ache alive in every cell of his body. Then he poured himself a second drink and walked over to the window in his bedroom that provided a view of the Sinclair property and the beach beyond.

  Guests were milling about on the beachfront where his son stood next to a minister before a fanciful bower. A garbled announcement drifted upward, and the guests quickly took their seats. A few seconds later, the muted sound of the music signaled the start of the ceremony.

  He gulped down another mouthful of scotch as he watched. Waited as he had over thirty years earlier when Elizabeth Maxwe
ll had marched across that great lawn to marry his then best friend and business partner.

  She had been radiant in her grandmother’s wedding gown, her tall, slim figure magnificent as she went to take her vows. Vows she should have been taking with him, but he’d waited too long to declare his love. He’d been so busy building his wealth so that she could have the kind of life she’d deserved, only…

  Pain as sharp as a knife tore into his gut as Maggie walked out on her father’s arm. She looked so much like her mother, it was like seeing a ghost. Maggie wore the same wedding gown, and with her trim figure and coloring, it was easy to imagine that it was Elizabeth again, alive and moving down the aisle to meet him.

  He slugged back the rest of his scotch with a few quick swallows, but it did nothing to kill the agony roiling in his heart.

  He’d lost the love of his life that day along with his best friend and partner.

  He’d thought it couldn’t get any worse.

  And then eight years later, he’d lost Elizabeth forever.

  He swiped at a tear as it escaped and sucked in a deep breath, battling to control the emotions that threatened to swamp him. But as Maggie reached Owen and she stepped to his son’s side, he could no longer hold back his grief.

  He hadn’t cried for Elizabeth that wedding day so long ago. Nor at the funeral he’d refused to attend.

  He dropped to his knees, buried his head in his hands, and finally mourned, the sobs racking his body. Threatening to tear his frailness apart from the force of his misery until the fury of his lament was finally spent.

  He rose and stumbled back to the window to watch his son be married.

  * * *

  Owen felt gobsmacked at his first sight of Maggie on her father’s arm as she stepped out of the house and onto the patio.